


Discordancy

by Escher84



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, But in the good way, Canon - Comics & Cartoon Combination, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton-centric, Crimes & Criminals, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Heavy Petting, Human Disaster Clint Barton, It's all fun and games until, Older Man/Younger Woman, Our boi Clint is a walking trash fire and I am HERE for it, POV Clint Barton, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but the likable kind of criminal, did you not see the tag about our boi being a disaster?, disaster couple, except substitute MCU for cartoon, look basically everything's unresolved up in this bitch all right?, naaaaah nah nah nah nah nah nah (batman), oh you thought just because things get a lil frisky they wouldn't be unresolved?, show up uninvited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escher84/pseuds/Escher84
Summary: Hawkeye has a long and varied past. He’s been a carnie, a spy, a superhero, even a brainwashed soldier.He also was, no matter how much he hates to admit it, an ex-criminal.It’s a part of his past he moved on from long ago and hoped he could just forget ever happened. But when an old associate contacts him for help, Clint is reminded that not everything he had so desperately tried to leave behind was something bad.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Original Character(s), Clint Barton/Original Female Character(s), Clint Barton/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Respect the Boomerang

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a note here, I apologize, part of it is me talking and the other part is giving appropriate credit, so bear with me a moment.
> 
> Clint’s backstory here is a mixture of his comics and MCU versions that I decided to play around with when I wondered what the MCU would be like if it had a neutral-grounds establishment similar to Hotel Artemis and The Continental because I’m a sucker for those kinds of additions to criminal undergrounds. It's not by any means a _significant_ element in play, but it's what kicked off this whole fic idea that I've grown so fond of.
> 
> Second, this story is written solely from literally anyone else's POV who is not the OC, the vast majority of it being Clint's. I have a reason for doing it this way, I promise. 
> 
> Lastly, **giving Credit™ where credit is due** : The flashback at the beginning of this chapter is a rewritten adaptation of a diamond choice scene from the Choices game _The Heist: Monaco._ I made up an OC for Hawkeye, and then a few days later found out that this VN had an extremely similar character concept, so I played around with what that scene would be like if it was with Clint and **my** Eris instead. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this story as much as I do! Enjoy!

**_Okay... This looks bad._ **

**_The harsh buzz of static washes out the shriek of tires in his hearing aids as the van tips precariously onto two wheels. Clint spins the steering wheel hard to the left, taking another hairpin turn in an effort to not careen off a 50-foot drop while going 90 miles per hour. The acrid smell of burning rubber hits his nose at the same time the vehicle jolts and shakes, all four wheels back safe on the asphalt._ **

**_Well, mostly safe._ **

**_Okay, safety is currently a foreign concept for Clint. What he had thought was going to be a simple smash-and-grab job has turned into Clint using a beat up junker van with more broken parts than functional ones as a getaway car along the Italian coastline while his partner attempts to blow up a safe in the enclosed space right behind him._ **

**_"Whooooo!" Clint hears from the back of the van as it careens dangerously around yet another turn, back doors fluttering open on their hinges. The raucous shouts of his partner remind him to flick the switch on his devices while she gets down to business and hopefully doesn't fly out the open hole in their getaway vehicle made by the distinct lack of closed doors. He's not even going to bother yelling at her to close them; from what he heard of that last round of gunshots, he's surprised they're still attached to the van as it is._ **

**_There's a strange buzz he feels in the air and then the violent vibrations of a_ bang! _He flicks back on his hearing aids just as the woman behind him whoops again. "And... gottem!" she announces._**

**_"Great, now can you please help me get these guys off my ass? They're a little too close for comfort."_ **

**_"Aww, is wittle Ronin afraid of things going up his ass?" There's no malice to her mocking, but he knows it's a challenge anyway._ **

**_"Please," he scoffs, "bears just aren't my type."_ **

**_Eris cackles, wild and delighted at his response, and if it weren't for the fact that he was currently more often driving on two wheels rather than four, Clint would look back to commit the image of her laughing like that to memory._ **

**_"Well, they want their safe back so badly... I should be a good Samaritan and give it back to them, shouldn't I?"_ **

**_A wicked grin spreads across his face at her suggestion. "Y'know, sweetheart, I think they just might appreciate that."_ **

**_He doesn't bother to wonder how a petite girl such as Eris plans on pushing out what must be a 200-pound safe. He's been on exactly one heist with her—this one—and he can already tell that she is someone who defies both physics and death with her levels of insanity._ **

**_Sure enough, a few scrapes and several grunts later, and the van doors crash open to let the newly emptied safe launch right into the path of their pursuers. A deafening crunch and the sound of screeching brakes is all he hears for several seconds before triumphant cheers fill the vehicle once more._ **

**_"I can't believe that worked, you beautiful bastard!" Eris cries out, draping herself in the passenger seat. "That was such a rush, I could kiss you right now!"_ **

**_Clint gives an easy smile in response, leaning back now that he has the luxury of driving slower. "By all means, don't fight it if you—"_ **

**_The rest of his words are lost as his face is abruptly turned and his mouth covered by soft lips pressing eagerly against his. His lips part in silent surprise, and Eris takes the opportunity to dart her tongue in to swipe against his, bringing with it a taste of smoke and cinnamon he somehow finds intoxicating. But before he can register her actions enough to kiss back, Eris is pulling away, a grin on her lips and fire in her eyes._ **

**_He should have known right then and there that she'd be trouble for him._ **

Clint shook the memory off as he looked up at the nondescript hotel looming above him then back down at the text that had made its way onto his phone.

> H _ey_ F _r_ an _c_ is, Lo _n_ g time, _no_ ch _at_! _J_ us _t_ tho _u_ g _ht_ I' _d_ _see_ _h_ ow y _o_ u' _ve_ _b_ ee _n_ _d_ o _i_ n _g_. How's _th_ e _w_ i _fe_? Ever _e_ st is _l_ on _e_ ly _wi_ thout _y_ ou _r_ _j_ ok _es_ , _b_ u _t_ _I'm_ s _t_ il _l_ _c_ li _m_ bin _g_ i _t_! - _X_

It was a code he hadn't seen in a long time. Her code. She had even signed it with her usual kiss.

_'Need help Ronin. Meet at hotel.'_

He never thought he'd step foot back in such a place after SHIELD took him in—never thought he'd be _allowed_ to step foot back in—but he could already feel that warm familiarity slip over him like a well-worn jacket as he stepped into the polished lobby, old habits making their way back into his gait.

"Good evening, Ronin," The Concierge warmly greeted. "It has been quite the long time since we have seen you around here. We are pleased to see you make use of our services once again."

"Evening, sir. It's, uh," Clint huffed out in incredulity, and the man's smile only grew more smug, "it sure is interesting to be back."

"And how may we help you this evening?"

Clint scratched at his chin. "Ah, I'm here to find an old friend, actually." He held up his hands in a gesture of good will at the sharp look in The Concierge's eye. "Don't you worry, I know the rules. Just looking for a drink and a chat, I swear."

The Concierge hummed noncommittally, flipping through his ledger. "Well, you're in luck that a room has already been reserved in your name, though payment will still be required." There was a slap of folded notes on the marble surface, but the man made no acknowledgement. "And you have a booth reserved in the lounge for midnight. We trust you can find your way there?"

"Mm, yeah. Thanks, man."

Clint made to take the offered room key, and was given one last unsettling smile by The Concierge. "Welcome back to Hotel Soteria, Ronin. Do let us know if you find yourself in need of any assistance."

* * *

The lounge was dim, lit sporadically with shifting colored lights meant to distract and obfuscate. There was no host to tell him which booth he was intended for, but a familiar shine of icy waves flashed through the milling crowd and gave Clint his answer. Taking quick steps forward, he left himself with no time to second guess his actions as he slid into the booth.

"You changed your hair."

He drank in the sight of the woman before him, trying his damnedest not to let the spark of familiarity burn into something more illicit. Where before had been wild white locks in a disheveled undercut, bold makeup and piercings, and a _'fuck you'_ attitude so common amongst rebellious youth, now stood messy silver-white waves cut sharp, with subtlety and daring balanced out in what combined into an impossibly alluring form.

And yet it was still that avid, easy grin tugging at dark, painted lips that met his words and stole his attention. "Aren't men your age supposed to start a flirtation with _'what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?'_ If you're not careful, I might start thinking you didn't miss me, Ronin."

Clint couldn't help but snort and roll his eyes at her greeting, "You got rid of the lip ring too."

"Aw, sad that it's gone?"

"Shouldn't you be flirting with people your own age?"

That pulled a sharp laugh from the woman, "Where would be the fun in that?"

Clint sighed; he had forgotten how...whimsical Eris could be. It was a fun trait to be around in the past, but the world had made him weary, jaded. There was no real place for exuberance in a spy's life. He didn't know how to deal with it anymore. "Get to the point, Eris. Why did you bring me here?"

A slow smile spread across her face, and Eris leaned forward, voice a husky whisper, "I've got something I think you'll _really_ want to get a hold of."

Clint had been so wrapped up in not staring at her that he didn't quite grasp what Eris had intended when she told him she had something for him. It wasn't until he felt the heat of her slide onto his lap to straddle him that Clint realized the trouble he was in.

Rough, half-gloved hands cupped his face as Eris leaned down to press an eager kiss to his lips. His mind went blank, arousal and habit taking over to urge his mouth to move against hers. He dragged her closer by her hips, earning him a gasp that let him slip his tongue inside to explore her mouth. Clint smirked into the kiss; it was rare he was able to surprise the chaotic woman.

He buried a hand into her hair, letting him control their movements and deepen the kiss as Eris's touch burned a trail down his chest. His advantage was quickly lost, however, when she dipped a hand into the waistband of both his jeans and underwear, careful to keep away from where he suddenly found himself wanting her touch the most. A ragged moan escaped Clint from the combination of that teasing brush and the harsh bite to his lower lip.

"I'll wait up for you," she whispered, placing another short peck against his swollen lips. 

And then the warmth of her body was gone. Clint blinked as he tried to understand what had just happened, but Eris had already disappeared.

"Damn girl's trying to give me a heart attack with her games, I swear," he groaned. "Can't she just leave an old man alone?" 

Taking a moment to adjust himself, Clint palmed the flash drive Eris had slipped into his pants, moving it to a more secure location with the sly tricks years spent in the circus had taught him. He tipped back his beer and waited, looking as much like a man who had just been teased as any around him. All he needed to do was keep blending in a little bit more; then, he could escape to his room and see what the job was that awaited him.

* * *

Clint locked the door of his hotel room, slumping forward to lean his head against the polished wood with a frustrated groan. Why, of all the people he had teamed up with in his past, did it have to have been _Eris_ that made contact with him again?

He thought back to all the jobs they had pulled off together. The bright, brilliant, chaotic demolitions prodigy who lived up to her alias was a surprising complement to his pinpoint efficiency as a marksman and hired sword. She was an explosion unto herself, and at only age 18, she truly had been a force to be reckoned with. So why she had taken after that first heist to teasing and flirting with a man over ten years her senior, Clint would never understand.

His mind brought up flashes of moments witnessed firsthand of how she liked to play with those who caught her interest like toys, and when she was done she'd leave them behind just as easily as one. It was all a game in her mind. Which made it all the more frustrating for Clint. As much as he hated to admit it, he was drawn to Eris, but he refused to play her games and be another crushed pawn. The age gap didn't help matters either. God, every time he thought about her made him feel like a dirty, old man. It was even worse now that he actually _was_ a dirty, old man.

"A gorgeous woman is waiting for you on your bed, and you choose getting personal with a door instead?" He heard an undignified snort from behind him. "You're a better gentleman than me, Ronin."

Clint sighed. He wasn't surprised by her presence in his room: she hadn't given him a room number to meet him at, after all. He turned and made his way to the encrypted computer that came with every guest room in the hotel, ignoring Eris as she swung her legs back and forth off the side of the single bed. "That's because you are neither gentle nor a man," he remarked tersely, settling into the leather chair. "I don't see why you had to go and grope me to slip me the damn thing if you were just gonna meet me in the room anyway."

"Cuz then I wouldn't have had an excuse to kiss you!" Came Eris's cheerful response."

Yeah, yeah. This USB of yours got extra encryption already on it?"

"It's safe."

"All right, let's see what problems you're dragging me into now." He plugged in the drive and immediately a single folder popped up:

Project Shadrak.

Clint clicked through the folder, and dozens of files appeared on the screen, each one detailing a job right down to grainy, camera-feed clips of the woman in question. "Eris, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Silence hung heavy in the air for a single moment. 

"…A week and a half ago, I found a bug in my apartment," she began from behind him, voice quiet. "I sweep the place regularly, so I don't know how long it had been there, but I could've sworn it couldn't have been for long. Then a few days later, an unmarked envelope was left inside my door, lock still secure. It contained that flash drive and details on every job I've ever pulled since joining the Underground."

He spun the chair to face her, eyes hard at the implication of her words. "Why didn't you have someone trace the data? Why not check your security system feeds? What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm a hired gun, Eris, not a hacker. And I'm not even that anymore."

"I tried!" She bit out in frustration. "Once any hacker saw the flash drive's encryption, they refused to help me. Wouldn't even tell me why!"

"And what exactly do you think involving me is going to help with?"

"Don't you get it?!" Clint faltered at the distress in her voice and watched as she gripped at the roots of her hair and tugged on the strands. "They have data on _every. single. job._ I've done! That means they have this information on you too! You're in danger, Francis!"

Her voice broke on his false name, and Clint felt his ingrained defensiveness crack at the sound. "What about other partners you've had; have you warned them too?"

He had thought by now nothing Eris could do nothing to surprise him anymore. But then, she shifted her gaze from his, looking awkward as she muttered, "I haven't had any other partners on jobs..." 

Clint blinked, “What?”

“Look, I-I don’t— I just— Before you agreed to work with me, no one wanted to work with a technical teenager, all right?” Eris crossed her arms. “After the Italy job and the banker, I got a reputation for being difficult to work with. I don’t—” she cut herself off with a petulant huff, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I just don’t really play well with others, okay? It’s usually better for everyone if I’m hired for design work or solo jobs.”

“You worked with me just fine,” he pointed out.

Eris threw her hands up in the air, exasperation weaving its way through her words, “Yeah, and I got known for that too! You were known as the only one who could ‘handle’ me, as one employer put it. Did no one ever bring it up to you?”

“Honestly, I never really thought about it,” Clint admitted. “Usually was too busy thinking about the shit coffee they always gave us.”

“Yeah, well, it was said to me enough times. So there’s no one else to warn, you happy?” 

Eris was dangerously close to pouting, and it made it difficult to keep the serious expression on his face that the situation called for. “Fine, I’ll help you find out who’s after you so that both our backs are in the clear. But after that you’re on your own, Eris. I can’t be seen back in this life.”

“Thank you, Ronin,” she breathed. The next instant, Clint found himself in a crushing hug.

“Oof. Er, I can’t help if you break me, all right? Jeez, I forgot how freakishly strong you are.” Clint rubbed his back as Eris stepped away and sighed. “We’ll head out around noon tomorrow to speak to the last hacker you brought the stick to. For now, get the hell out of my room and get some rest, okay?”


	2. What Kind of Bad Guy Doesn't Wear a Tracksuit?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Eris attempt to get some answers. Whether they succeed or not is really up to a matter of opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to apologize for my terrible posting tendencies and excessive wait time that will probably not change in the near future. ADHD is a bitch, y'all. But I do promise that any fic I post is one I intend to complete, no matter how long it takes me, unless stated otherwise. 
> 
> Also, the sheer amount of writing I have for this story and this OC in general pretty much guarantees I will never leave it abandoned.

Okay... This looked bad.

Clint slipped as he skidded around the corner of the old building, nearly crashing into a dumpster. Bullets whizzed by, embedding themselves into the brick wall where his head had been a split second before. He popped up for a moment to look around, then ducked and shot off a round. A pained cry and the soft thump of a body told him he’d hit his mark.

“Come on!”

Thin fingers wrapped around his wrist to tug him up and forward with surprising strength. Clint looked back quickly as Eris led him around another corner into shadows, but he saw nothing behind them.

In the back of his mind, Clint wondered how a simple meeting to see what he could wheedle out of the last tech monkey Eris had gone to with the flash drive could have gone so wrong. Warning sirens had started blaring in his gut when she had given a non-committal answer to whether she trusted the hacker, and really, Clint knew he should have listened, but common sense had never been his forte. Throw in a pretty face, and Clint was likely to walk blind into any danger so long as he could help.

So really, he shouldn’t have been surprised when—shortly after refusing to rat on the mysterious “them” that had left their signature in the file’s encryption—several dozen rather unfriendly men greeted them at the door and began showering them with bullets.

Ragged breathing filled the narrow, darkened alley. He didn't know if any of their pursuers were still alive after that car bomb Eris had set off, but Clint knew that neither of them would last much longer. He leaned a little heavier against the rough brick, mindful of the small woman trapped between himself and the wall.

“Those were trained soldiers, Eris,” spoke Clint in a harsh whisper. “Why are trained soldiers trying to kill us?”

“I don’t know; I swear!”

A split-second catch of clambering boots was all the warning Clint got. Diving to the ground with Eris in tow, a shot rang out, and brick exploded above them.

“There! End of the alley!”

Clint didn’t bother to look at what Eris had noticed—only scrambled to follow her lead as he changed out his magazine and shot down the three enemies that had made their way into the mouth of the alley. So naturally, when Eris stopped abruptly and started climbing a fire escape, Clint skidded to a halt only to stumble into a pile of old trash bags.

Eris poked her head down from the first landing of the fire escape. “Come on! They’re catching up again!”

Groaning, Clint groped for his gun and aimed blindly behind him, firing off two shots that—according to the low whistle of appreciation earned from Eris—met their marks. He grumbled as he got to his feet, brushing off bits of off-color leftovers. Handing his gun up to Eris, Clint grabbed onto the bottom rung and began the ascent to take their chase to the rooftops.

* * *

The pair nearly collapsed as they entered the front lobby of the hotel, too exhausted to bother caring about the looks they were receiving from less-informed guests. Whoever it was that had been chasing them, they had continued to make their presence known even from the rooftops, hunting them right up to the gates of their sanctuary.

Lucky for them, even these crime lords respected the power of Hotel Soteria, and as soon as they had crossed over the threshold, all signs of their pursuers had disappeared. Still, they had gotten close today; but now Clint had something to work with. Now, they knew it was an organization, and not just a lone person out for revenge. Eris was one step closer to being free from danger.

Or at least he hoped she would be.

Clint looked over at Eris only to catch her looking back, and all at once the pair crumpled to the floor in a fit of laughter.

“I think we need a ‘holy shit we didn’t die’ celebratory drink.”

“I think I need five.”

Hopping to his feet with more energy than he thought he could muster, Clint held out a hand to help Eris up as well. But with adrenaline still coursing through him, he pulled her up too fast, and ended up tackled back onto the ground.

“One day, you’re going to have to explain how you’re so weirdly strong, woman,” Clint winced, rubbing the back of his head.

“One day, you’ll understand basic physics, and I won’t have to.”

Clint huffed out an incredulous laugh at her teasing retort and let himself be pulled back to his feet much more gently than he had tried before. Stumbling together fully into the lobby, shaky, disbelieving laughter built up between them. Laughter that was cut short by the curt clearing of a throat and the expectant eyes of The Concierge.

“Miss Eris, Ronin, welcome back.” The placid, disquieting smile of the attendant had Clint’s hackles raised in an instant. Next to The Concierge stood a mousy, unassuming man in a boxy suit with something much less placating bleeding into the curve of his smile. “This man has requested an audience with you, Miss Eris. In one of our _upper-level_ board rooms.”

Eris froze. Clint could see the slow fear creep over her, dawning in hesitant eyes that plead for him to come with her. Clearing his throat, Clint stepped forward to tell the man to lead the way, but before he could, The Concierge stopped him.

“ _Just_ Miss Eris.”

He looked back, reluctance plain on his face. But they knew the rules.

“I’ll just be in the lounge, ‘kay? I’ll get our drinks and a table for us.”

Eris slowly nodded, chewing on her lip, and let The Concierge escort her to the elevators. Exhaustion fell heavy on Clint as soon as the doors closed on her weak smile, and he began making his way into the lounge. The stress of the day made itself known in every fiber of his muscles, but honestly Clint could not see it as anything but a win. They had returned to the hotel with more information than when they started, and for once, Clint could say he escaped a chase without falling from a building or breaking any bones.

All things considered, it had been a good day.

Then, the look on Eris’s face as she was corralled away flashed in his mind, and Clint reconsidered. Sighing, he settled in at the bar, raising a hand to catch The Bartender’s attention and order his and Eris’s usual celebratory drink. Whatever had just happened, whatever conspiracy was going on, they were _alive_. And Clint would celebrate that win while he still could.

One drink turned into two, and two into three as Clint waited with impatient agitation. A half an hour later, and still no sign of Eris. Clint was about to get up and ask for the current Concierge to check on them when the telltale flash of silver-white signaling Eris’s presence appeared at the entrance. He sat back down, tension bleeding from his shoulders as soon as she came into view.

“And here I thought I’d been stood up,” he tried to joke, refusing to give life to all the possible scenarios that worried at his mind. Eris didn't respond. Mouth set into a grim line, she took the cocktail held out to her and chugged it without taking a breath. She slammed the glass down, and reached for Clint's drink as well. He didn't stop her, too concerned by what could have happened in that meeting to make Eris so perturbed. She stared hard at the bar top for a moment, brows furrowed as she chewed on her lip. He could almost see the gears turning in her mind as she processed what had happened. When she finally spoke, it was uncharacteristically quiet. 

"It's a job offer."

Clint stilled at the words, eyes locked on a curtain of silver-dyed hair, waiting for her to continue. 

"The man... Mr. Whateverhisnamewas, he said he represents an organization that 'recognizes my talent and potential.’" The words were disbelieving as they left her lips. "He apologized for the miscommunication in the delivery of the package. Said it wasn't intended as a threat."

The new information should have been a good thing—should have meant his job here was done and he could say goodbye for good. But the look in Eris's eyes was not one of relief. "Well," Clint started, unsure of the words even as he spoke them, "you can just decline their offer and go your separate ways right? Did he even say what organization it was?"

The furrow in between her brows deepened as Eris shook her head. "No. No, he didn't. And..." She trailed off, a vain attempt to swallow down the fear that coated her tongue. "I don't think they’re going to let me decline."

"What?"

"Whoever they are, their representative made it pretty clear that declining the job was not a choice on the table."

"...Fuck."

The curse hung heavy in the muted silence between them. It was a rare moment in Clint's experience that could render Eris speechless, and though they never lasted long, it was always a sign of something worse to come. Sure enough, Eris soon broke the spell, tossing back the last of Clint's drink and bringing it back down hard onto the lacquered bar top. 

"Thanks for everything, Ronin." Sadness tinged the edges of her fatigue-worn words even as she tried to hide it with a smile. "I know it was a risk coming back here for you. I'm glad I got to see you at least one more time."

The look on Eris's face sent worry ringing through Clint's chest and made his next decision for him. "Of course I came, Er. Now, go up to your room, clean out your shit, and meet me back in mine." 

"Why?"

"Because you're too smart for whatever stupid plan you're thinking of going through with right now." With that, he stood up and began to make his way to The Concierge. Clint still had several favors with old contacts, and tonight seemed as good as any to cash in on them. 

* * *

After several hours of trades, negotiations, and errands, Clint collapsed on the bed of his hotel room next to Eris, too exhausted to bother turning on the lights. He had done as much as he could to prep for what he had planned but knew it was still a risk, one he wished he could give warning for. Instead, he answered the question he knew was burning in his ex-partner's mind.

"We're leaving first thing in the morning; got a bit of a trip ahead of us. I'm gonna take us to someone who can help."

Burrowing deeper under the covers, Eris murmured her acknowledgement. An ache stirred in Clint's chest as he glanced over at the small woman somehow sprawled over half the bed.

"Hey, Eris?" he questioned.

"Mhm?"

"Why do you do this?" He waited a moment only to receive a noise of confusion as Eris shifted around. "I mean, you're clearly one of the brilliant minds of your generation. Even just knowing that you're some type of prodigy in the demolitions field, I know you could’ve done literally anything you wanted with your future and been ridiculously successful. So, uh, why are you an international criminal constantly on the run instead?"

A resigned sigh made Clint turn on his side to face her. He could just barely see the furrow in her brow as she stared down at the comforter between them. "Remember when I told you I have trouble working with others?” Clint nodded. “Well, consider being told your whole life that you're the smartest, the best—that you're made to do great things... if only you were more obedient, more compliant, stopped being so loud and relentless. _'If you just calmed down, you could make something great out of yourself.'_ ” Eris gave a derisive snort. “I got tired of being told I could be successful in life if only I just wasn't..." she hesitated for a moment, "wasn’t myself. Eventually, I decided if the world didn't want me as I was, then I'd find somewhere that appreciates me as I am."

It wasn't until Eris let her eyes finally close and nuzzled into his tricep that Clint realized how close they had gotten during her explanation. "At least now I'm respected for my skill and feared for my personality," she mumbled, voice weighed down by sleep.

Clint reached out to tuck a few shining strands of silver out of her face and sighed, "All of them were idiots for treating you like that. But I promise you, you can have a life on the straight and narrow where all anyone wants to do is see you shine."

Calm, even breathing washed over the skin of his arms as he finished talking. Staring down at the woman he always tried so hard not to be consumed by, Clint couldn't help but place a quiet kiss to her temple before giving in to sleep himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Silence is valid, but my need to be fed your reactions is even moreso.


End file.
